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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29133672">Don't You Know?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/newskyillusion/pseuds/newskyillusion'>newskyillusion</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Existential Crisis, Fairies? Why Not, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter and fairies, Harry Potter has an Existential Crisis, M/M, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:55:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,058</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29133672</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/newskyillusion/pseuds/newskyillusion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry just wants a case that isn't filled with politics, Daily Prophet's journalists, and all the stuff that includes taking photographs (of him) and interviews (of, also, him). He wants to show that he is a good Auror, that this line of work is where he is supposed to be.<br/>He begs for a new case, something with less press.<br/>He gets one.<br/>What he also gets is one curse breaker, and apparent fairy expert, Draco Malfoy.</p><p> </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasly (past), Hermione Granger/Ronald Wesley (background)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He swore under his breath, the “<em>fuck me,”</em> low and gutteral and also muffled by his hands with which he covered his face. </p><p>The world was clearly mocking him. Mocking him to the point of… he didn’t know to the point of <em>what</em> exactly but he knew that it was currently laughing at him in earnest.</p><p>“Why, Potter,” said Draco Malfoy, standing next to him, looking at the doors that closed behind him just seconds ago and sealed shut as if they were never there. “I thought that I wasn’t your <em>type.</em>”</p><p>“Oh, for… Shut the hell up, Malfoy,” said Harry, painfully massaging his face thinking how much would it hurt if he gouged his own eyes out and if it was worth it. The alternative was to look at Draco Malfoy’s smug smile that made his blood boil and not in an angry way, <em>oh no</em>, the reality was far worse than that. “I’m trying to think.”</p><p>“Well, out of the two of us you’re the Auror, so please, do your job that you’re paid for and please do it quickly. I have a fundraiser I need to attend in…” Malfoy took a pocket watch, silver and shiny, out of the inside of his thick black coat and opened it with a very soft <em>click</em>; the hands of the clock were gold and he saw that its face was glittering with stars. “Eleven hours. And I still need to change into something more formal.”</p><p>Harry scoffed against better judgment but shut his face seeing the look on Draco’s face; the one raised eyebrow and a challenge in his grey eye to say something. After a beat of silence the silver-haired man turned, his back to the doors — or where the doors previously were — and took a long, anguished breath. </p><p>“Since you will be doing your Auror work,” he said the last words with the sort of disdain one pureblood would use to an house elf. “I will carefully look around and see if we aren’t in more trouble than we think,” he added, taking the wand out and making a few steps to the jungle behind them.</p><p>Harry wanted to stop him; grab him by the arm and shake him, scream at him that they were in this mess because <em>he</em> didn't do his curse job well enough and because <em>he</em> ignored his warning, but stopped himself. What his line of work taught him was that he should first think and only then act — something he was really working on — and knowing that this argument would mean nothing and would only make them hate each other more (if it was even possible) he decided to shut up.</p><p><em>Best idea you had so far</em>, he thought bitterly, wand already in his tight grasp and he sighed, again, and started casting to see what he had gotten himself into. </p><p>Not every day one would get stuck in a world that didn’t — couldn’t — exist, but here he was, The Boy Who Lived, with his worst enemy, proving the world wrong yet again.</p><p> </p><p>It started, as all stories do, innocently. More so, not only because of who called the case in but by who took it over. Because Harry Potter didn’t like to think that he was an Auror figurehead, nice for pictures but not so welcomed on the ground, but for the last couple of weeks, months even, he found himself assigned to cases that were high profile, not very challenging and boring as hell. And to make matters worse he couldn’t do anything to change it; by now even the Aurors around Robart’s office knew it because Harry has been more and more vocal about his dissatisfaction with the arrangement of cases that were assigned to him.</p><p>“I am not asking for another Lord Voldemort,” he said to Robart just two weeks prior, after throwing a very thin folder with a case that had a lot of publicity and politics involved but not much Auror work. “Just… Give me something worthwhile! I am a good Auror, am I not?”</p><p>Robart sighed. Took off his glasses, gently placed them on a document he was writing before Harry stormed his office. He placed two fingers on the bridge of his nose, between the eyes, and sighed. </p><p>“Potter. That’s the third time this month you have been… unsatisfied with the work you were given. Are you telling me that the cases assigned to you are not up to your standards?”</p><p><em>Oh</em>, thought Harry, trying to sooth his face into a relaxed mask of indifference while trying not to flinch and show how deeply his boss’ words cut to the bone, <em>he is good</em>.</p><p>“Sir,” said Harry, really trying not to sound like a spoiled child. “I just think that after three years of being an Auror you would stop treating me like a teenager. You do not need me in the papers, <em>I </em>don’t need to see my face in the Daily Prophet any more than the wizards and the witches of this community. I am just asking you to reconsider,” he gently placed a hand on the folder he just threw. “The cases that you’re assigning me.”</p><p>Robart narrowed his brown eyes. After a heart beat, another, then the third, he faintly shook his head. </p><p>“Finish the one you have. I can’t promise anything, Potter. Just give us your best. And get out of my office. Dismissed!” He said, impatiently waving a hand and returned to writing as if Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, didn’t storm his office mere minutes ago. </p><p>So, Harry left. Finished the case that required him to navigate more reporters than meeting the witnesses, closed it in record time even. And waited.</p><p>And waited.</p><p>And waited.</p><p>He didn’t expect Robart to give him anything spectacular, but something that would require to use his brain and not only his mouth to smile for the photos. </p><p>What he got was: an old woman that half the time didn’t remember who he was or what was her name, an old house that was probably haunted, and Draco Malfoy. </p><p>The first two were… manageable. Miss Perrywinkle was a lovely woman with an agreeable amount of cats — four — which, to Harry’s surprise, did not want to eat him on sight (some used to more than others, he always liked dogs better). The first time they spoke she gave him more tea and biscuit — he couldn’t just say no to an older woman! — then Ron’s mum, mixed his name three times, but otherwise was lovely. Chatty, in a sort of grandmotherly way, always talking, changing topics, adding one thing to another until you and her didn’t know where she started from. </p><p>So, there was Miss Perrywinkle, her four cats and her chattiness.</p><p>Then there was the house. Located on the outskirts of London, placed under similar spells as Grimmauld Place, it was a two storey building with an attic, a single tower to which Miss Perrywinkle lost the key to, a basement and apparently a ghost problem.</p><p>“Ghasted thing that ghost is,” said Miss Perrywinkle over a second cup of lovely jasmine tea.  “Really horrendous, making all sorts of noises that nobody wants to listen to, waking me in the middle of the night. One of my sisters, Beatrice, used to do the same thing you see, waking me up in the middle of the night. I think she got it from our mother, Esther, who lived through the worst time during the World War. Did you know that in France....” and off she went, which Harry welcomed with a smile, a polite node and a bite of the exquisite biscuits. They were lovely; not too hard and not too moist. He wondered if the woman would give him the recipe.</p><p>The ghost wasn’t the main issue that Miss Perrywinkle had with the house. It made some noises in the night, shook the house a couple of times, but overall it wasn’t why the called for the Aurors. </p><p>When Harry thought about his next case he didn’t think that he would get a haunted house with a haunted garden and haunted cemetery, but. </p><p>Here he was, trodding through the mud, his trainers a lost cause, to the mausoleum of Perrywinkles, to meet the cursebreaker that the woman hired a few days ago to solve this case before it became something bigger and more dangerous.</p><p>The ancient, heavy metal doors were open and Harry peeked inside the long hall, that stretched down, down, into the darkness. He took out his hand which after a quick <em>Lumos</em> became the only light in the damp and dark stone walls.    </p><p>As he crossed the threshold a shiver ran through his back and Harry gritted his teeth holding the wand tighter. The steps were steep and slippery, his footsteps were echoing in the corridor making it seem as if there were more people walking down into the earth. Miss Perrywinkle told him that the curse breaker was already there, working diligently for about two weeks. “You see,” she said, picking up one of the four cats and putting it on her laps without missing a beat. “I think that all the noise and the fuss is because of the ghost in the cemetery. Five generations of Perrywinkles were buried there, in a bloody mausoleum, and I am sure that it’s one of their ghosts that is making everything go bonkers around here. I already hired the best curse worker there was, but the situation has gotten dire. Please, Mister Putter, please help,” and for the love of God, how could he say no?</p><p>When he finally stopped at the bottom, the stone plate beneath his feet smooth and solid under his feet, he breathed a little bit better. </p><p>Until he heard the noise.</p><p>Harry stopped, a few steps after he came down, and listened, wondering if he didn’t go crazy. He had to be, because what he was hearing was a voice that he thought he forgot, mumbling some words weaving here and there a “<em>fuck</em>,” or, “<em>asshole,</em>”. He blinked a couple of times, startled, his heart beating fast and not only because of the stress. He went forward and followed the voice to the end of the corridor, where he turned left to stop a few meters before a man kneeling in front of a stone sarcophagus. </p><p>“I would not stand there if I were you,” said the man, not even bothering to turn Harry’s way. “You’re standing on somebody’s grave, that is,” he added as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, said a spell quietly under his breath and made a complicated gesture with his wand, and then swore not so quietly.</p><p>Harry stared. Just stared, dumb fooled and unable to process the information properly. </p><p>The man had longer hair — it would reach his jaw if it wasn’t gathered up in a messy bun — but they were still almost silver and even in this light they looked almost like silk. Harry thought that maybe, if he had enough courage to touch them, they would feel like the most luxurious thing in the world. The man’s face was sharper and a little bit tanned, his eyes focused in front of him. He sighed, deeply; Harry watched the rise and fall of his chest under an black, woolen coat, how impatiently the wand flickered in his hand, fingers long and slender.</p><p>“Didn’t you hear,” started Draco Malfoy and turned towards Harry, stopping in the very moment he laid eyes on him. Harry almost flinched; it wasn’t like the years weren’t good but they were not exactly bad on him, too. He grew into himself; his arms were wider now and he was less bony, but his dark brown skin didn’t have the same shine as it did before, thanks to the odd hours, lack of direct sunshine and the general problems with sleep that Harry had. His hair was still a total mess: even though he cut it regularly it still had a life of his own. </p><p>Draco seemed to take him all in, from head to toe and Harry could swear that something of an almost smile, the corner of his lips, turned up. “Well,” he said, his grey eyes as steely as his voice. “Did not expect you here. Potter,” he nodded and stood up in one fluid motion from the floor he was kneeling on, wand still in hand.</p><p>“Malfoy,” Harry also nodded because that was the customary greeting between old childhood nemesis, was it not? </p><p>They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, Harry’s skin prickling with an electricity, buzzing just under the surface. </p><p>“I would ask what you’re doing here but I think I already have the answer,” Harry gestured with his wand at the books Malfoy casually spread out on the floors; the symbols and runes written in white chalk around the square, simple sarcophagus that seemed to be done from one piece of stone. </p><p>“Ah, yes. As always <em>so</em> observant,” Draco gave him a dry smile and Harry gritted his teeth before he said something stupid. “How did Miss Perrywrinke manage to get the famous Harry Potter on her case? You only get the ones with the most photos for the Daily Prophet, don’t you? Please don’t tell me they’re waiting outside, I didn’t do my skin care routine this morning.”</p><p>Against himself and better judgment, Harry smiled. Because no one gave him shit like Draco Malfoy did. And in the light of the few torches Draco had on and which gave the inside of the mausoleum a soft glow the man looked… good? Better than the last time Harry saw him, which was at the trail. Even though, at that time, the Malfoy’s were put under much scrutiny by the judges and the community he still walked to that jury room as if <em>they</em> should be kneeling before him and be glad for it.</p><p> He saw some of that boy in the man standing before him, in the way he held his head up high, how he looked at him and didn’t see The Boy Who Lived but just a menace from school that seemed to follow him even to his job. </p><p>“Just…” For a moment Harry was looking for appropriate words, combing hair with his fingers and he shook his head slightly. “Just... forget it. Yes, hi, it’s me, I am the Auror. You’re the Curse Breaker. Let’s just…” He sighed, deeply, turning off the <em>Lumos</em> spell and pocketed the wand. “Let’s just get on with it.”</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“What Potter, you don’t want to sit on a cold floor, do each other's hair and laugh at the memories of how we tormented one another at school?”</p><p>Harry laughed at that, his chest a little bit lighter than when he walked in. “Yes, fine, we can do that if you really want, but after the job.”</p><p>“Oh please, you don’t have to keep the Prophet photographer waiting on my behalf, you can take the pictures by yourself.”</p><p>He put his hands on his hips and looked up at the uneven, round shape ceiling, thinking of how much he did not want to punch Draco Malfoy right now. How the hell did he know, after meeting him the first time in what, seven years? how to push his buttons was beyond Harry. But Draco did it so effortlessly, like he was born to do it; to piss him off, to make Harry want to rip his head off, to push him against the wall and…</p><p>Well. Do things.</p><p>Harry cleared his throat. “There are no photographers waiting outside and there won’t be if you don’t tell anybody. I don’t want any press here. Do you?”</p><p>Draco looked at him as if suddenly he grew a second head. “Do<em> I</em> want journalists sniffing outside? Potter I had to <em>move out of this country</em> to get away from them!”</p><p>“Oh,” said Harry simply. “I didn’t know.”</p><p>“Of course you didn’t know, why would you know,” Draco sighed and turned toward the sarcophagus. “I won’t tell anybody, so don’t worry,” he added, quieter and softer. </p><p>“Ah, alright, thanks.”</p><p>“Eloquent as ever.”</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes but smiled. “Yeah, yeah. So, tell me, what do you think is wrong with this place?”</p><p>Draco looked at him for a heartbeat and for a splint of a second Harry thought that he was going to say something but changed his mind at the last moment. He turned to the sarcophagus, scowling.</p><p>“It’s...complicated,” he said at last, not looking at Harry, who stepped closer, intrigued by the chalk drawings.</p><p>“Yeah, no shit,” muttered Harry, brows drawing closer as he tried to decipher Draco’s writing. It was sort of all over the place and not, runes draw carefully with a precision that he never could muster — run drawing wasn’t his strongest suit, never was, he just sort of, ah, went for it? His gut feelings have helped him in the past and he wasn’t going to not listen to them anymore — the lines were straight and perfect, as if Draco had a layout he used. The runes went from the wall all around the sarcophagus to the others side of it, creating an ominous half circle. </p><p>“So protection runes, against seen and unseen and…” Harry paused, looking over a more complicated rune and he stifled a whistle because his teachers at the Auror’s training would positively piss themselves if they ever saw a masterpiece like that. “Is that combination of runes for uncovering secrets, making invisible visible again and summoning all in one?” He straightened and backed away a step to be sure that he didn’t disturb anything; it looked as if Malfoy spent at least a couple of hours, if not days, drawing them, and the last thing Harry wanted to do was to smudge anything. </p><p>His eyes met Malfoy’s who looked at him with a sort of puzzled look on his face and Harry hated that his heart skipped a beat, heated that he had to pocket his hands because suddenly they started to get sweaty. “What? I’m an Auror after all,” he said, more defensively than he liked, but being around the other man always put him on the edge. He knew, unctuously, that Malfoy wouldn’t whip out his wand and petrify him on anything like that — the school days where they looked at each other and plotted how to get the other were long gone — but he still had the urge to pin Malfoy to the wall and demand his deepest secrets.</p><p>And yes, his dreams about that involved kissing. And more. Sometimes. He wasn’t proud of them! He thought, before, that he dreamed about… combinations with Malfoy because he  put a nasty spell on Harry, when he wasn’t looking.But, apparently, when you don’t think about your sexuality when you’re a teenager because you have other things to do, like saving the world and so on, it comes back at you and bites you in the ass when you’re twenty and confused why you’re attracted to both men and women.</p><p>These days he was okay with who he was. Not out, at least not to the wide world beyond the mausoleum, but to those who were closest to him. He tried to date muggles, but it became complicated sooner rather than later. He enjoyed having someone who was a muggle as his partner, at least for the first couple of months, as at that point he still could explain <em>things</em>. But then his job — the odd hours, him disappearing in the middle of then night and so on — put a shadow on the relationship.</p><p>There was only one person whom he told the truth about himself. He was a nice bloke, tall and quite handsome and took good to the “I’m a wizard” thing. They just sort of fizzled out and he had to modify his memory in the end. He cried after that for three days straight.</p><p>Oh, Sam. He missed him, even though it’s been almost two years now. </p><p>“I know that, Potter, you don’t need to remind me. If you’re looking for validation, though, you’re definitely looking in the wrong place.”</p><p>Harry just sighed, deeply, from within his bones, “You just sort of looked as if you didn’t believe what I was saying, that’s all.”</p><p>“Remember, the last time I saw you, you were a mumbling idiot who had more luck than brains.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, you weren’t better either.”</p><p>Malofy scoffed at that and Harry looked up from the runs at the man. “We both were shitty teenagers, let’s agree on that.” Malfoy wiped his hands still covered in chalk in an expensive looking handkerchief, which was probably monogrammed as all pureblood things did, Harry though. “Let’s hope we grew out of our childish behaviour and are better adults now.”</p><p>“Don’t know about you but I’m pretty good at adulting,” Harry smiled wildly.</p><p>“So what, you now know that you should, actually, iron your jeans?”</p><p>After a beat of silence Harry said, ”Wait, what? You should iron your jeans?” To which Draco laughed, head tilted back and for a moment Harry lost his ability to breath, seeing the other man’s smiling face, the outline of his delicate throat. </p><p>Something squeezed Harry’s chest, a feeling that was dormant before inside his body and it took every ounce of restraint not to walk to Draco and outline his throat with his tongue. </p><p>He could feel his cheeks blushing and not for the first time in his life he was glad that his darker complexion hid the first signs of embarrassment very well.</p><p>“How the hell are you alive, Potter?” Asked Draco, quite theatrically wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes. Harry shrugged at the question.</p><p>“Sheer luck, I guess?”</p><p>“Well, maybe some of it will rub off on me,” Draco looked at him and Harry had to nervously swallow.</p><p>“Yes, maybe. So, what’s your take on the case?” Harry preyd his eyes away from the handsome man’s face, hoping that the blush didn’t claw it’s way deeper inside his cheeks, making his freckles more pronounced. He inherited his dark skin and wild hair from his father, but the freckles and eyes were from his mom.</p><p>“Did Perrywinkle tell you what the main problems were?” Asked Draco taking a step back from the tomb, hands in the pockets of his coat, looking more like a prince with a dark past who came to the catacomb of his family to bring a curse upon his enemies than a curse breaker on a job.</p><p>“Yes; the problem is not the ghost in the house, which is weird in itself, how come the ghost doesn’t bother Perrywinkle,” Potter shook his head not understanding the old lady at all. “But she said that the main problems are the noises from here and that the thing scares not only her but her neighbours as well.”</p><p>“The noises, for one thing,” Draco straightened his index fingers, counting. “There are also things missing, not much or many but still it’s a noticeable loss. Then,” third finger went up. “There are the doors.”</p><p>“What's wrong with the doors?”</p><p>“Aurors,” Draco muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disapproval. “The doors are new. These are the fourth ones in a matter of weeks. Miss Perrywinkle had to replace each one of them because they were always destroyed from the inside.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Harry, feeling a cold shiver go down his spine. As if Draco felt it too, he looked at the other man and nodded.</p><p>“And there are the lights They usually come at night, near full moon or right after it. They don’t look like ghosts, either.”</p><p>“You saw them?”</p><p>“Yes, I’ve been here for quite some time, Potter, believe it or not.”</p><p>“I’m…. not trying to undermine anything you saw, Malfoy, just checking.”</p><p>Draco narrowed his eyes. “When I say I didn’t see ghosts then I mean it. And yes, I saw ghosts,” he said, seeing Harry opening his lips and wanting to ask precisely the same question. “You forgot where I grew up.”</p><p>Shit, yeah, thought Harry, his mind showing him the walls of Malfoy Manor, the furniture that looked more ancient than those in the antique store, how the portraits looked at him, only their eyes moving as if they were frozen in place, following his every step. </p><p>He wondered how the place looked like now, with Lucius dying in Azkaban and Narcissia taking over everything. Did they sell it? He heard about some of the pureblood families going bankrupt but he never heard that rumor about Malfoy’s. As soon as the judgment was done, with Harry talking for Narcissia and Draco’s lighter sentencing, the young Malfoy was out of the country, continuing his studies on the continent. </p><p>Harry always thought that Malfoy would be the Master of Potions; he was good at it, he basically worshiped the ground Severus Snape was walking on and the course work… It wasn’t that it didn’t suit him either (Harry allowed himself a glance at Draco’s lean body, how his brows furrowed as he was looking at the runes, his mind clearly elsewhere).</p><p>He could only nod; saying anything else was meaningless. Because what do you say to somebody who was used by those around him; by those who should protect him at all cost? What do you say to such a person who had to leave his country because otherwise his every move would be scrutinized? Draco didn’t have Blaise’s charm or Pansy’s network of people who still wanted to talk to her. Harry worked with both of them, separately, on a few cases; Zabini was too much of a flirt for his taste and Pansy’ dry sense of humor was a tad too dry for him. Nevertheless, he enjoyed their company and when Balise asked him out for a drink, he brought Ron and Hermonie and everybody else who was available. Their group stunned Blaise for a second, then he rolled his eyes and said, “Well, the rumours that all Gryffindors are joined at the hip are apparently troue. I guess the first round is on me, eh?” In the end they closed the pub at three in the morning, slightly wasted and more friends than colleagues.</p><p>“So, what’s your theory then?” Asked Harry, bringing the conversation, and his thoughts, back to the topics at hand.</p><p>Draco sighed. “It’s intriguing, to say the least. I’m not entirely sure, but hopefully thanks to this,” he pointed at the runes with his chin. “I will know more.”</p><p>“So you got it covered, then?”</p><p>Draco gave him a look that would make Harry take a step. “What, Harry Potter already bailing? Is the case too boring for you? Too…” </p><p>“None of those things,” Harry interrupted, before the other man could finish. “I just wanted to ask how I can help, seeing that you have the situation under control.”</p><p>“Far from it,” Draco laughed, the sound echoing from the walls. Harry closed his hands in his pocket, trying not to flinch under the hollowness of the sound.</p><p>They clearly have changed. He, well, for better or worse, has grown up and for the better part of his early twenties, tried to catch up to everybody around him without having the same experiences as them. While others thought about their exams and crushes he was trying to save the world. It became evident, especially after the world was saved, that there wasn’t much to do for The Boy Who Lived except, well, live. It turned out that if you haven’t done the “living” part in a long, long time, it can become a little confusing and depressing.</p><p>And there was Draco. Harry sometimes, when he was lying in the darkness of his small flat, would think about the other boy, the man he had become. Who had to run and hide, who had to carry the burden of his family’s sins and who would be forever judged by them. Who had loving parents but who, in the end, betrayed him on some level.</p><p>He didn’t know what was worse; how his mother clearly loved Draco but who couldn't choose the wellbeing of her only child over anything else. </p><p>Harry blinked and he was back to the damp interior of the vault, Draco’s echo laugh slowly fading away.</p><p>“But don’t worry, Potter. There will be a job for you to do.”</p><p>“That’s all I ask,” said Harry and his heart beat a little bit faster. He only needed that; work, something to do, to pass the time that was otherwise empty. After running for so long he found out that normal life was a tad too tedious for his taste. Or maybe he just wasn’t doing it right? He didn’t know.</p><p>“Well then,” the blond man gave him a mocking smile. “Let’s put you to work, shall we?”</p><p>“Alright,” said Harry, ignoring the feeling of heat creeping up to his neck, the way his pulse get faster as something uncoiled in his veins, eager. </p><p>The trouble he didn’t want was already there, brewing under his skin, but at least he had something to do. For now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As Harry and Draco work together it turns out they aren't half as bad as they thought... And the ghost in the garden makes an appearance.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry needed this job because he didn’t want to be on the cover of the Daily Prophet each time something happened, however, he wasn’t sure that trading the flash of the camera for grey eyes of one Draco Malfoy was better. </p><p>He felt watched, sometimes. Not in a predatory way, not in a way that made his blood run cold as some people did — those who wanted to use his fame to push their goals and ideas — and not in a way that some women looked him over, from his feet to his unruly hair. No, it was — at least Harry perceived it this way — a sort of curiosity from Malfoy. He was watching him like a scientist watched a very rare species of animal; with care, from far away, not wanting to scare the animal away. </p><p>Sometimes, when silence fell between them, a comfortable one which puzzled Harry the first time it had happened, he <em>felt</em> Mafloy’s eyes on him and something in his belly stirred with anticipation for the other man’s first move. Would he make one? Because Harry Potter very much would like so.</p><p>He chewed on the inside of his lips, looking over the garden of Miss Perrywinkle. It has been nearly three weeks since he took the case, three weeks since he discovered that he would be working with none other than Draco Malfoy, and here the two of them were, preparing themselves for a full moon. </p><p>It was a… peaceful, all the days that had passed working side by side with Malfoy, Harry was astounded to say. Peaceful, full of research, occasional comment here and there from one of them about the other; how Harry’s taste in clothes was really bad and how Malfoy was definitely too preppy for the whole curse job, just look at his tailored trousers and blazers! Sometimes they even went the old memory lane, reminiscing about Hogwarts day. “How did you know where I was, at school? It was creepy, you know.” To which Harry only shrugged, put his hands in front of him and wiggled his fingers, whispering, “Magic, Malfoy.” It made the other man huff a laugh. Harry counted that as a win, as he combed his hair wit his hand, looking at Malfoy from the side, trying to be sneaky about it. </p><p>“Carefull, Potter,” Malfoy shouted from the other side of the garden, wind making the strands of his silver hair move like branches of a willow tree on a gloomy Saturday morning. “You don’t want to know how much these cost!”</p><p>Harry looked down at the pieces of red twine weaved with tree branches that had their bark peeled, the sap soaking in the twine making it more black than red. Every finger’s length, a run carved out of a white stone, no bigger than half of his hand, would be braided into the thing that was almost as long as Harry. </p><p>“I can practically hear you scowling, Potter! Just put the braid on the ground exactly as I told you!” Added Draco, kneeling in the dirt he himself disturbed a few minutes ago. </p><p>There were many things Harry did not expect to experience in his life. Dying and coming back to life, defeating Voldemort and seeing Draco Malfoy kneeling in still wet earth after the whole day of rain, digging in with his long and seemingly delicate fingers and just throwing the clumps of dirt behind him like a dog. </p><p>Draco sent him a look that could be interpreted as “You say one word and I will kill you,” or, “Don’t you dare to laugh,” at the same time, with nothing in between. When he was done he gently placed another rune, this one big as his own hand, wrapped in a red cloth and covered it with a thin layer of dirt before he sent Harry on the other side of the garden to place the braid in as a perfect circle as he could muster.</p><p>“You defeated Lord Voldemort,” Malfoy smirked as Harry rolled his eyes. “Let’s see if you can do a more basic thing.”</p><p>He was looking at his design now, hand on his hip, a triumphant smile on his face.</p><p>“Rather good,” said Malfoy approaching him, careful as not to step on the flat stone he laid on the ground earlier, to create a path from one object to the other. The rune was dug the closest to the entrance of the mausoleum — it’s door opened wide, the black maw of nothing creeping the hell out of Harry — and the path Malfoy created would lead the being to the circle and trap it in it.</p><p>“How do you know all this stuff?” Asked Harry when Draco stopped in front of him, looking over the circle with a critical eye.</p><p>“‘This stuff’, Potter, please.” Malfoy shook his head. “Apart from course work I also studied the fay. Don’t laugh,” he added quickly, mouth in a tight line, looking up expecting a rather different reaction from Harry because what he got was:</p><p>“Fairies? You studied them? That’s so cool!”</p><p>Malfoy blinked.</p><p>“Cool?”</p><p>“Duh, yes!” Harry beamed at the other man. “I didn’t even know you can study them!”</p><p>“Well, not in England you can not, but there are some people who specialise in them and were eager to share the knowledge.”</p><p>“In Egypt?”</p><p>“No,” said Malfoy absent minded, leaned in and corrected the outline of the circle by a millimeter. “I went to Poland and Ukraine for some time. Then I spent a year in Russian, came back to Poland for a year and went to Egypt to do curse work.”</p><p>“Wow, that’s…” Harry paused, not really knowing what to say. He knew that Draco was educated and that he traveled, but who in their right mind would go to Poland to study? “That’s amazing!”</p><p>Malfoy squinted at him.</p><p>“You’re serious?”</p><p>“Yes, why wouldn’t I be? It’s amazing that you went to all these places and learned so much.”</p><p>The other man nodded, slowly.</p><p>“Thank you,” he said, and added more quietly, “I guess. Alright, let’s get ready, we need to wait and see what happens.”</p><p>Their hiding spot was a magically enhanced bushes, that Draco made grow and Harry obscured so that anybody who would walk to the garden could see just that; a bunch of plain bushes, thin branches that grew outwards in a manner that screamed for some cutting. But from the other side he and Malfoy, comfortably sitting on folding chairs (Malfoy just scowled at them when Harry took them out of his bigger on the inside pocket, but ultimately sat on them, hands crossed, as if their existence offended him. Harry smiled to himself, covering his mouth with his scarf, so that Malfoy wouldn’t just scoff at him, or worse, talk to him.) seeing everything that was happening in the garden with full clarity.</p><p>“So,” Harry said, looking ahead of him and not at the Malfoy who, he could swear it, flinched a little bit when he spoke. “Why faeries? I mean it’s a cool subject, and very... unorthodox.”</p><p>“Unorthodox for who? Me, because I’m a Malfoy or because I’m an ex-Death eater?”</p><p>Harry grit his teeth for a moment, wondering why the universe hated him so much. “Unorthodox because you’re the first person I have ever met who studies… them. Not everything revolves around your family or your past.”</p><p>“Since I stepped on this bloody soil it feels like it.” Malfoy said unders his breath, but shrugged when he was done. “Sorry. I don’t like to be in England. It… brings unwanted attention.”</p><p>“I’m sorry that it’s that bad for you,” said Harry, truthfully. He was sorry that Draco felt as if he had to run from his home country to finally live as he wanted to, and not turn around to see if any reporters were following him. “But I thought that you would, you know, feel the best with people following you. You’ve always had someone with you at Hogwarts and you were a slight peacock.”</p><p>“I was not!” Draco turned fully towards him, eyes wide in horror, mouth agape. “I was definitely not, Potter, take that back!”</p><p>Harry laughed, “But you were! Always showing off what you got from your parents, always with a full escort!”</p><p>Malfoy, still looking at Harry with wide eyes, opened, closed and opened his mouth again, to make no sound whatsoever, and close it with a snap. </p><p>“Yeah, well, what about you? You were always with Granger and Weasley like triplets that couldn’t be separated at birth!”</p><p>Harry smiled at that and turned towards the garden, beyond the bush. The sky above was clouded but the moon, big and bright, peaked out from beyond the clouds like a surprise that nobody expected. He could almost count the craters on its surface. </p><p>A cold breeze flew through them and Harry’s mind wandered to the one time when Dudley, on purpose, closed all the doors and didn’t let him it; it was a December night, much colder than this and the Dursley were out having a dinner or trying to impress Vernon’s boss, he didn’t remember. But the coldness, how it seeped through his skin to his bones, how his little body of a eight year old trembled while trying, desperately, to open the door.</p><p>When Petunia opened the back door and found him sitting on the steps she gasped and forcefully grabbed his arm to bring him inside. There was no warm tea, no blankets, just accusations that he “did it on purpose, to bring even more attention to himself,” while Dudley smirked at him from the other end of the room.</p><p>He never met Dursley’s again after the war. Didn’t want to, didn’t need to. He had already a lot on his plate and having a panic attack in front of the only blood related family he had, just because he faced them and they brought back some very ugly memories to him, was not something he really wanted to experience. It was enough that sometimes he would lay in bed, his small bedroom dark, and watched the changing colours of the night on his ceiling having an existential crisis after an existential crisis. </p><p>“It’s good to have friends, don’t you think?” Harry said instead. “Tea?” He added, taking out of his pocket a thermos and unscrewed the cup. It was white and had red strawberries and pink raspberries on it: it was Harry’s favourite. </p><p>Draco looked at the thermos in Harry’s hand, at Harry and he sighed. “Please tell me it’s good tea.”</p><p>“The best I’ve had,” Harry lied smoothly, clicking the thermos and pouring some of the liquid to the cap and handed it to Draco. Their fingers brushed and an electricity current ran through Harry’s fingers to his hand and further; he averted his eyes from Draco’s mouth to his dark green scarf, not really trusting himself.</p><p>The other man took the drink, swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing and he made a wretched sound which made Harry laugh. </p><p>“You call that tea!?”</p><p>“I knew you were a tea snobber, Malfoy!”</p><p>Draco’s face twisted in disgust as he took another sip. “Utterly horrifying, Potter. No wonder you look like that when you drink things like <em>this</em>.”</p><p>“I look like what?” Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning towards Draco, making the other man flinch and blink rapidly.</p><p>“Like this!” Draco made a vague gesture with his free hands toward Harry as if as supposed to explain everything. “Shut up, you know what I mean!”</p><p>“I have no idea, Draco,” with a smirk Harry drank from the thermos and pulled a face when the bitterness of the tea hit his tongue. “God, you’re right it’s truly awful.”</p><p>Draco scoffed and took another sip. “Truly horrendous.”</p><p>“You… don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it.”</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes, “Yes, well, I have something that you’re lacking,” Draco tilted his chin up. “And it’s called manners,” he said with an utterly serious face but his eyes, the way they sparkled with mischief and held back laughter, betrayed him.</p><p>Harry was about to say something when a warm hand clasped around his mouth, as Draco leaned in dangerously closer, smelling like freshly made washing and citrus cut moments ago. He gave Harry a look, pressing his index finger to his lips — would he taste like the tea? Harry asked himself and swallowed hard, barely trying to contain the sound that was about to be freed if it wasn’t for Draco’s soft fingers — and then pointed at something on Harry’s left</p><p>He turned without Draco’s hand leaving his mouth, which was good, because it stifled a surprised gasp he was about to make when he saw the light that slowly emerged from the mausoleum. </p><p>It looked like a lightbulb at first, slowly floating in the air, radiating a warm light, the colour of coffee with too much milk inside rather than the starkness of sun’s rays when it woke Harry up in the morning and he had to aggressively blink and swear that yet again he forgot to install the blinds. </p><p>The light floated out, stopping briefly by the threshold of the mausoleum, as if pondering about why the doors weren’t closed, but then it flew quickly like a butterfly to the first stone. They watched, transfixed, as the light slowly moved from stone to stone, leaving behind a faint trace of yellow dust that flickered for a few seconds and then fell gently to the ground to vanish there, between the wet ground and withered grass.</p><p>Harry swallowed; Draco cautiously removed his hand from his mouth and gave him a stern look. </p><p>“Ready your wand,” he whispered, so low that Harry had to strain his ears to hear anything. He got the jist when Draco as quietly as he could stood up from the chair, the wand in his right hand and positioned himself to jump. At that moment he looked truly lethal and Harry thought that if they were to duel right now he wouldn’t know if he wouldn’t just bail on the whole thing and run, screaming like a scared teenager. Everything in Draco’s movements was precise, no muscle moved involuntarily, his gaze was intense on the still moving light which was closer to the circle by the second. </p><p>“Get ready,” said Draco, voice so very low that a shiver went through Harry’s whole body; in anticipation of what was going to happen or arousal? Probably both, he thought, as he mimicked the other man’s movements.</p><p>Three stones were left and Harry more felt than saw a shift by his side which told me that Draco was getting ready. As if in response adrenaline started pumping blood in his system, the heartbeat so loud he could heat it in his ears, the <em>ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum</em> clear like morning bells from the nearby church on Sunday.  </p><p>There was a time when he loathed how much he wanted this, needed this to function like a normal human being. People who thought that after saving the world everything returned to normal were deadly wrong and Harry would gladly punch them in their faces, because the reality was quite different. He missed those time; when he felt young and so afraid that the anxiousness of the whole situation became his everyday and he wasn’t frightened but felt alive. It was like a drug and partially that’s why he joined the Aurors, and partially because he simply wanted to help. His body thrived on those dangerous moments and Harry didn’t know when his work and his actions would be deemed ‘too dangerous’ for his supervisors, but he dreaded it and wanted it to be <em>now</em> at the same time. </p><p>He made himself take long breaths through his nose, his wand clasped on his hand, a charm already almost forming on his mouth; he felt the magic gathering in his wand, warm and sweet like hot tea with honey on a rainy and drafty day.</p><p>The moment the light touched the circle they moved as one, sprinting from the bush, the first spell realised from Draco’s wand like a lightning, followed by the low rumble of earth when it hit the fairy who fell on the ground like a ton of brick, hard and at once, to Harry’s surprise. The spell he was holding buzzed under his fingertips but he would rather wait for Draco to tell him what to do, as he was the specialist in this situation. They stopped, boh breathing hard, a few steps away from the still alight shape, which Harry started to see under the moonlight.</p><p>There were wings, small and delicate, like butterflies, but colorless and almost translucent. The person, because it was a person, was small, no bigger than Harry’s hand including his fingers, lying on the floor, supporting themselves on bent arms, trying to slowly stand up. When they got closer the creatures head snapped up and Harry saw big eyes that sparkled as if a current of electricity was coming through them or fireworks were exploding inside them in a slight slow motion. It’s head was bigger than the body, pointy ears long and very thin, chin looked as if it could break through the skin and draw blood. It looked gentle, doll like almost.</p><p>But then the creature bore its many, many teeth, literal rows of them, that looked as if somebody stuck in fish-bones haphazardly, not looking if they were sticking out straight or not. He almost flinched, but then the creature hissed and the ground started trembling underneath their feet. It moaned as if something forcefully splintered it and Harry first saw a crack around the circle which was coming closer by the second. Draco swore under his breath and nearly collided with Harry as the ground moved dangerously. </p><p>At the same time the creature stood up and made a very loud sound that Harry could only describe as a pitiful moan mixed with a low growl of a threatened animal; it lifted it’s head, the moonlight glistening from its teeth, made the sound and took off, fast, its wings beating at an unusual speed, but sporadically as if flight took a toll on them. But the thing was fast and the desperation made it faster yet.</p><p>Harry looked at Draco who nodded in return and they were sprinting, ground still shaking underneath their feet, towards the mausoleum when the light started to disappear as it went down, further into the ground. Harry muttered <em>Lumos</em> and his wand immediately lit up, but they didn’t have time; the fairy was fast and it was flying while they were jumping from step to step, trying not to stand on those that were cracked or which had crumbled under the sheer force of the quake. It didn’t help that the steps were still slippery and that there was no railing to lean on, except the cold walls which could collapse at them every moment.</p><p>They run through the last steps and rushed through the entrance to the catacombs to find the light disappearing in a doorway poised behind the sarcophagus that Draco painted around with runes. Its surface shivered as if it was an ocean on an extremely hot day, and it sparkled with the same electricity like the eyes of the feary. </p><p>“What do you think we should do?” Asked Draco as, at the same time, Harry said, “Are we going in or not?”</p><p>They looked at each other, breathing heavily from the rush of adrenaline and the literal rush down the stairs; Harry could feel a drop of sweat on his left temple. Harry licked his lower lip while Draco looked at him then at the door.</p><p>“Shit, it's disappearing,” he said just as Harry noted that the shine and the outline of the door started to get fainter and fainter with every second.</p><p>Who grabbed whose hand first was a debated they wouldn’t clear, but Harry felt his fingers closing around Draco’s hand, warm and <em>there</em>; his pulse spiked and the rush of blood made his cheeks heat. They started to run at the same moment, hand in hand and they jumped in the last moment, the air around them smelling of ozone and something burning, like human hair or an extinguished candle; and it was so fast. The moment they were on the other side it felt as if they were attacked by green leaves and the heaviness of the air around them made their hair cling to their skin. Harry blinked a couple of times and adjusted his glasses.</p><p>“Shit,” said Draco and Harry immediately abandoned staring at his surroundings and turned towards the man who was glaring at the wall behind them. It was solid red brick with no sign of any doors, whatsoever.</p><p>“Shit,” repeated Draco, lowering his wand. “Holy shit.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! This little thing of a fic kind of went out of control as at the beginning it was supposed to be one shortish thing and not a four chapter monster.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry and Draco go through a magic door in a wall, following a fae, and they don't think.<br/>Only when the door disappears after them do the stop and look around and wonder: what the hell did we just do???</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He knew even before they started to run, before their fingers touched, before they followed a fairy down the catacombs, that they were in some deep shit. Harry looked around, from time to time moving aside a gigantic green leaves of ferns that were as long and big as his body, the green buds much softer to the touch than he thought. The greenery seemed to be overwhelming them, smallowing the two men whole, every leaf bigger and greater than up above, in their world; the air was thick and moist and Harry was glad for permanent cleaning charms because otherwise he would have to be wiping off the droplets that had gathered on his glasses every few minute. </p><p>The wall from which they had undoubtedly come out was as solid as he was; two metres high, built from  red bricks that were crumpled around the edges. It seemed not to belong to anything: a wall built in the middle of nowhere was an unusual sight. A wall built in the middle of nowhere in a fairy world was highly disturbing. But still: it was a wall. Going around it didn’t make Harry see anything else apart from even more plants and how the red bricks looked on the other side, but there was nothing extraordinary about it.</p><p>After five minutes Harry was unbuttoning the top of his shirt, his coat lying on the grass with his yellow scarf made by Ron’s mum — a gift from few Christmas ago — thrown on top of it, and he was rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his his elbow when he head the leaves rustled behind him and he turned in one swift movement, wand already raised. He then stopped abruptly when Draco Malfoy, with his coat slung over one shoulder and slightly damp hair, emerged from the ferns and nearly screamed.</p><p>“Potter, it’s only me,” he said, though his gritted teeth as Harry lowever his wand, the spell he prepared fizzling away into nothingness.</p><p>“Well, next time please just don’t…” He gestured widely at Draco, unable to say the words “surprise me from behind,” without knowing that his cheeks would likely go much redder and he didn’t want Draco to get any ideas. “Do that.”</p><p>Draco frowned slightly, but nodded. “Alright, sorry, won’t do that,” he answers, a hint of something in his voice that Harry couldn’t name; a sort of understanding, maybe, mixed with caution. When Harry put his wand behind his belt he saw in the corner of his eyes that Draco was still tightly holding his, the knuckles white.</p><p>“How does it looks like further?” Asked Harry, wanting to break the awkward silence that fell between them. Silence was good, but only with the right people; he still couldn’t forget the one that fell after he and Ginny decided to split — amicable, but still, they should have seen it coming and not waste the best years of their youth being with one another just because they fell in love when they were young and stupd and with a war raging around them — how heavy it was and how it seemed to stretch and stretch and stretch, until Ginny looked up and smiled, sadly. “At least I’m glad it was you, Harry. You need to know that I won’t regret this, us,” she said, with glassy eyes and suddenly Harry’s throat was so dry the only thing he could do was hug the redhead, and they both cried for ten solid minutes.</p><p>Deep down he knew that Ginny was right, that she nor him would regret the years spent together, but…</p><p>But…</p><p>There was a part of him that regretted the relationship, regretted that they broke up so late in Harry’s life (he was still twenty-three ten but it felt as if he was way over thirty or even older, his bones protesting after a simplest task), regretted that he could discover what life really was like <em>after</em> his relationship with Ginny ended.</p><p>There were, of course, people with whom silence was nice. Desirable, even. Hermione was one of those people and Harry liked to visit her and Ron’s house and sit by the dining table while she worked and read and scribbled; it was relaxing to have her there, at hand’s reach, and yet not. </p><p>Silence with Teddy meant that the boy was up to no good and Harry learned what it meant very quickly, when one day he accidentally lit the couch on fire while Harry was in the kitchen, minding his own business while the silence stretched and cocooned him into a false sense of security.</p><p>Draco looked behind him, craning his neck as if he was looking back at something far beyond him. “Nothing much, to be honest. Just more for those and these,” he pointed at the giant ferns and palms that Harry knew he saw in floral shops around London. There, they were around Harry’s waist, leaves thin and tender, but now something cracked in his neck as he tried to see their tops. “I think it would be best if we went a little bit further just to see what’s out there, but we need something that would lead us back to the doors. The wall,” he corrected himself, looking at the wall behind Harry, cringing.</p><p>“Oh, I’ve got that,” Harry took out his wand and from its tip a string of golden rope emerged; Harry took it and pulled, the rope coming out from the wand until he was sure that he had enough to wrap it around the wall and himself. “It’s neverending rope, it should disappear in eight to ten hours and I can make it invisible if I want to,” he said as he walked back to the wall, the rope warm in his hand like a lukewarm coffee on a cold, snowy day. He took its end, walked around the wall and wrapped it into a simple knot, making a circle around the bricks. “That should hold,” he said, taking the other end and tying around one of the hoops of his belt. He tugged at it, once, and looked up with a proud smile on his face to see Draco watching him — his fingers to be more precise — very carefully.</p><p>“What?” He asked. Draco smiled with the corner of his lips and shook his head. “Nothing. Shall we?” He made a small bow, pointing with his hands towards the wall of green. Harry rolled his eyes. “Aurors first?”</p><p>“Of course Aurors first,” Draco smiled fully at him now; Harry had to look at the palms and the ferns that swayed gently under a breeze that for a moment made the air more breathable. He didn’ want to do anything stupid.</p><p>The pace he started with wasn’t the fastest but also not the slowest; it should be manageable, especially in these conditions. Humidity was very high, he could hear Draco’s long breaths behind him, accompanying him with the rustle of leaves he tried to clear, or at least hold, for the other man. The birds, if there were any, were silent and Harry gripped his wand the whole time, knuckles white, eyes sharp and alert for any movement. </p><p>But there was none. Nothing moved, except the leaves they cleared out from their path, nothing made a sound, except their long breaths, rustle of leaves and their feet stomping on a branch.</p><p>They walked and walked and walked, until Harry heard a noise, a sort of soft, humming one that a running water made. It was in front of them and if they turned slightly right…</p><p>“Do you hear that?” He asked, voice more rugged than he thought. He felt rather than heard Draco stopping behind him, feeling the waves of heat that his body emanated. He silently gritted his teeth and made himself stay where he was, because one step back and they would probably collide, which was bad, and if he shuffled awkwardly to the front, just a few steps aways from Draco, that would be plainly suspicious. The man was a curse breaker and was definitely not stupid.</p><p>After a brief moment of silence he heard Draco saying, “That’s water, isn’t it?”</p><p>Harry nodded. “Sounds like it. Any objections? You’re the fairy specialist here.” He felt Drco shuffle from one leg to the other.</p><p>“No, no objections, I think. I would have, if the fairies themselves were giving us the water but if it’s local I think we can try.”</p><p>Harry hummed in agreement and slowly started to pursue the noise; it came from the general area of his right. The deeper and further he followed it, the sparser the plants got, until he moved out of his way a giant leaf of a fern that was almost twice his size to see a small clearing with a spring cutting right through it. A bubbly laugh escaped his throat, which got drier and drier as they went, and he was about to take a step forward, when a hand clasped his shoulder and moved him back. </p><p>“Stop,” said Draco quietly to his ear, and holy shit, it did <em>things</em> to Harry. Things he didn’t want to think about, like the heat of Mafloy’s body, how he breathed hard and fast, warming his ear, and how firm his hand on his arm was. “Stop, Potter, for the love of god, for one second, alright?”</p><p>Harry nodded, dumbfounded, staring at the empty clearing; the grass was green and lush, but in contrast to the one they were walking though, this one wasn’t so high as it barely went above his ankles and it looked soft more like a fur than a grass. The stream that cut through the middle of the clearing was a small one, the water flowing without obstruction. The pebbles were polished and flat inside of the stream, the water was clear and there were no signs of any other animals. Still, he stood, like the greek sculptures on his bookshelves that held the few tomes he had — most for Aurors training, but he enjoyed a pulp romance or fantasy book written by a witch or a wizard from time to time — and let Dracon lean in even closer, the grip of his hand tightening (the material of his shirt clung to his sweaty body and no, Harry did not want to think further, he wanted to be brain dead at this point), his other hand with a wand extended above Harry’s arm. He muttered a few spells, some of which Harry knew, most not, and after a brief silence Draco said, “All clear, we can go.”</p><p>But they didn’t move. For what stretched of a century they stood there, Harry’s back pressed to Draco’s chest, his breath softer and softer, his hand still on Harry’s arm.</p><p>He was sure that if he turned his head just an inch left his lips would find Draco’s and then he could finally test if Malfoy’s hair was as smooth to touch as it looked and…</p><p>Grinding his teeth he made his feet move — they were alarmingly heavier than seconds before — and he pressed his lips together, hard, because there was a moan that wanted to escape then and he wouldn’t let it, because…</p><p>It wouldn’t be professional; they were working together and they were associates, plane and simple. He didn’t ring Draco after work to go out for a beer, or two, or three and a quick and heavy make out session in a dark alley.</p><p>Although… </p><p>With a single minded intent Harry stormed through the clearing, throwing his coat near the bank. He kneeled then, the soft ground seeping through the material on his knees. He leaned in, trying out the water with his fingers: it was pleasantly cool and without thinking he dipped his hands and made a bowl-like shape out of them to drink it.</p><p>It was cold on his tongue and mouth and there was something heavenly pleasant about it; it reminded him about those times at Privet Drive when he would wrap himself in a blanket and do his homework all night and when he emerged the air was cool yet, without the heat of the sun which was slowly coming up. He drank some more and risend his face with it, then hair, smiling at the cooling sensation.</p><p>“You coming?” Harry asked as the afterthought and when no answer came he looked back. </p><p>Draco was leaning against one of the palm trees, his head bowed, his body curled down. For a moment Harry thought that there was something interesting on the ground but then, very slowly, like a snake uncoiling, ready to attack, Draco straightened, his cheeks red, holding his coat in front of himself like a shield.</p><p>Draco opened his mouth to say something, but it seemed that he had changed his mind; he strode forward, trying to add some sort of assurance into his step.</p><p>“It’s cold, it will help,” said Harry with a huge grin, as he took another sip of the water, watching the other man in the corner of his eyes.</p><p>Draco knelt — not too close but not out of reach — and folded his coat, placing it gingerly on the ground, not looking at Harry, his eyes solely focused on the stream before him. He cupped his hands and lowered them to the stream to take first sips of water with his eyes closed.</p><p>“Good, eh?”</p><p>Draco side eyed him. “I’m not going to comment how you just ran here and drank before even checking if the water wasn’t poisoned.”</p><p>Harry blinked. He hadn’t thought about it. “I didn’t think about it.”</p><p>Draco shook his head, lowering hands again to take a few thirsty sips. “Thought so. You really had a death wish,” he added, his voice low as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.</p><p>“My therapist said that this is going to take years to unlearn. Years I still have!’ The last sentence was said on a more cheerful note and Harry waited for Draco to mock him, laugh at him for seeking help; he was ready for it. But Draco straightened, looked at Harry and gave him an acknowledging smile.</p><p>“Well, mine said that the blame will finally go away but I’m still waiting for that to happen. Workin on it, though,” Draco saluted with his left hand and took another sip, the water crystal clear against his long fingers, gleaming in the sun. </p><p>“Look at us,” said Harry, with a grin, face turned towards the sun, feeling his hair curling and drying under it. He thought about the children they were; one desperate for friendship and father figure, a fish out of water accepting everything that went his way because he didn’t know better; the other and aristocrat whose whole upbringing was about trying to nail this one, perverse idea about the supremacy of blood, his blood. And now they were sitting, side by side, by a stream in a faery land. </p><p>“I’m looking and not seeing anything remotely interesting,” Draco muttered and Harry laughed, titling his head back.</p><p>“Did anybody tell you you’re funny as hell?” He asked, opening his eyes and stopping mid laugh, seeing Draco’s flushed face, which was turned away the moment Harry’s eyes locked on his, as if in embarrassment.</p><p>“From your lips it sounds like an accusation.”</p><p>“It’s not,” said Harry, his voice suddenly soft and lower than normal. He cleared his throat and continued, “It’s not, I’m only stating a fact.”</p><p>“Does that fact stating head of yours brought something to eat, perhaps? I think we ought to stay here for the night,” Draco wiped his hands on his dark trousers and started to look around. “The sun is going down and I don’t want to be in the jungle when the light fades.”</p><p>“Should we start a fire or something?” Harry asked, rummaging through the pockets of his coat, hand disappearing up to his elbow, frantically looking for something he was sure to have. After a minute and with a flourish he took out a few protein bars, a packet of salted and unsalted nuts and an unopened bar of chocolate. “What, they’re in perfect condition and none of it is expired!” He said as Draco looked rather unimpressed at the things Harry seemingly salvaged from the depths of his very deep pocket. He laid the packets down, carefully as if they were made out of gold or a precious metal, on the grass and waved a hand around them. “Pick whatever you want.”</p><p>It seemed a simple decision to Harry but Draco pondered over it for long, angushingly long minutes. At some point he just stared at the Kit Kat for a full sixty seconds before his eyes darted to the packet of salted nuts.</p><p>He had drops of water on his eyelashes, Harry realised, and it took everything he had not to lean in to feel the man’s skin under his palm, to brush the water away. </p><p>When Malfoy took the Kit Kat and slowly opened it, Harry let out a long and silent breath and took the Snickers, tearing the plastic with his teeth.</p><p>He would have preferred Kit Kat but he let Draco choose first, so it was his fault that he wasn’t eating it now.</p><p>“So,” he said after the first bite, with caramel and chocolate still clinging to his teeth and bits of nuts trying, unsuccessfully, to choke him. “Do you think we will be able to start some fire with these?” He gestured with his chin to the nearby trees and ferns, all towering over them like muggle buildings in London, but the trees were natural and no man made and didn’t try to show their superiority over everything else: they just were it. </p><p>Draco thought deeply, looking around them, while eating a piece of the bar; he licked the chocolate of his fingers, his tongue pink and Harry nearly got a heart attack.</p><p>(If Harry were honest with himself, he would have proposed to do that for him, alas, he didn’t know how Draco would react, that was the thing. How do you know if someone is into something without asking them? But then if you ask you kinda show that you’re also into the thing you’re asking about. Harry just thought that the world was much more simpler when he was at school, that’s all.</p><p>Also, how fucking queer was he, for Christ’s sake? The answer was: yes.)</p><p>“The stuff on the ground would lit, probably,” he eyed all the fallen leaves, curled and dry, that looked like hay from far away. “Didn’t they teach you that stuff in Auror’s school?”</p><p>“No, they only taught us to get back to civilization as soon as possible,” answered Harry, without heat or anger in his voice, expecting the jab from Draco anyway. He took another sip of the water and stood up in fluid motion. “I’m going to gather as much as I can and we will have a fire in no time.”</p><p>And this time Harry Potter was right. Maybe, truly, for the first time Hary did exactly was he said he would do; he gathered up a ton of dry leaves, also carefully pulled out some of the lower branches, muttering apologies to the trees, just in case, and in half an hour they had a small but very bright fire just as the sun was setting down. </p><p>He expected the night to grow cold, weird sounds around them making his skin crawl and his hand tighten around a wand. But it couldn’t be further from that: it was quiet, apart from the peaceful and comforting crackle of fire, the soft hum of moving branches that reminded Harry of the holidays commercials that sometimes popped out on his computer’s screen the few times he used it (he didn’t abandon the muggle world, he sort of… slipped out of it, like a side character that was no longer needed). He sat cross-legged on the smooth grass, and thought, <em>oh hell</em>. </p><p>“I can practically feel you panicking, Potter,” Dracon next to him shifted a little bit closer and Harry could not smile at the bitting, but still friendly, tone of his voice. </p><p>“I am not panicking,” he lied, rolling up his sleeves even further.</p><p>“You’re such a bad liar you know that?”</p><p>Harry laughed at that, shaking his head, thinking about all the time Hermione just stared at him, her face slack and eyes judging each time he tried to lie to her, and something grabbed his heart and squeezed because what if he was never going to see her? And Ron? And Rose?</p><p>“What if we never come back?” He asked, voice raspy and quiet and for a moment he thought that Draco didn’t hear him.</p><p>“Already thinking about the worst?”</p><p>“How could you not?” </p><p>After a pause Draco shrugged and it would have been nonchalant if the rigidness of his body didn’t betray him. “After you lived through hell you cannot expect anything worse to happen.”</p><p>Harry turned towards the other man, brows furrowed, a question forming in his lips, but it died when he saw the far away stare that Draco had, as he focused his gaze on the fire. Suddenly he looked older than his twenty-seven years; like a man who had been through hell and saw things that could not be unseen, but then weren’t they all like that?</p><p>On some day Harry thought that he was fine, <em>fine</em>, just dandy, nothing to see here folks, just a normal man trying to live his normal life not knowing what normality was and faking things all this time, a lie after a lie. </p><p>“I never thought about it that way,” he said and wasn’t offended when Draco snorted and said unders his nose, “No, you wouldn’t,” as he carefully took his coat, folded it and used it as a pillow as he laid down, eye closed.</p><p>“You’re really going to just… sleep here?”</p><p>Draco shrugged again. “Do you have a better idea, Potter? Would you like us both to be sleep deprived?”</p><p>“So, you’re going to sleep and I have to keep a watch all night?”</p><p>Draco sighed as if he was in pain. “No, what I mean is that you will wake me up when you feel like you can’t keep your eyes open and we’ll switch.”</p><p>Harry blinked at that, nodding. Then he realised that Draco couldn’t see him so he just said “Ok,” to which Draco opened his one eye, then second, and sat up. </p><p>“We’re going to be alright Harry,” he said placing a hand on Harry’s arm; it was warm and reassuring and Harry didn’t want him to take it back. Draco squeezed it, once and took it back. Almost immediately Harry wanted to chase the touch; he had to bite the inside of his mouth not to lean in and curl into Draco’s warmth. </p><p>Malfoy laid back, head on his coat, hair spilling like silver threads on the dark wool; Harry swallowed and took his eyes off the man, not wanting to test his control. </p><p>The fire crackled and after minutes — maybe then, fifteen — he smiled to himself as Draco started softly snoring.</p><p>A sense of peace washed over him and he took a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth. He closed his eyes, listening to the gentle whispering of the trees and when he opened them he was lying on his back and staring into molten stars of two eyes glittering in the dying fire.</p><p>“Hello guests,” said the voice, like the rustling of branches on a winter night and Harry froze. “Welcome to my kingdom.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was twenty-one when he realised that this was it. </p><p>He was lying in his bed, feeling the outline of Ginny’s body at his side, her steady breath the only thing he could hear in their bedroom apart from his hammering heart.</p><p>It was it, wasn’t it?</p><p>He never… thought about it. Maybe he never <em>tried</em> to think about it; he buried thinking deep within him, under lock and key he threw away the moment the whole world was informed about Voldemort’s death. </p><p>His relationship with Ginny was fine; their house was fine; their life was fine. But now, as Harry was lying in the middle of the night, seconds slowly ticking by, Ginny still asleep at his side, he felt only resentment. Not for the woman next to him, <em>god no</em>. He felt as if a pit was dropped into his stomach and it sank and soured and sprung out roots that started to grow inside him, tipping him not only off balance but changing him into something he was not.</p><p>A man who sneered at his close ones; who envied others and who were selfish beyond measure.</p><p>He closed his eyes, feeling them burn with the oncoming tears. It wasn’t supposed to be like that; he was to defeat the Dark Lord and live happily ever after with the love of his life, but in the meantime it seemed that both him and the woman he loved grew up and apart in the process. And he <em>hated</em> himself for it; hated because he felt it was his fault, he could have done better and more, <em>should have</em>, but instead he focused on his Auror training and thus he didn’t see the crack that has become a ravine he couldn’t possibly jump over. </p><p>So, he laid in his bed and thought and regretted, until there were tears spilling down his cheeks. And when the roots become too much, the pit growing into <em>something</em> dangerous that threatened to overwhelm him, he carefully lifted the covers and sneaked out of the warmth of the bed, tiptoed through the cold floor to the bathroom, looked at his reflection — red eyes and cheeks sploshed with red spots, which he always got when he cried, gift from his mother — whimpered in his arm and made a resolution.</p><p>Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, would <em>live</em>. Truly, faithfully and for himself — so that the only person he could disappoint was himself and himself only — until he was finally sure that everything around him was as he wanted it to be.</p><p>So, when a couple of days later he finally, <em>finally</em>, told Ginny that they should split up, that even though it sounded so cliche it was really not her but him, he never felt so afraid as he did then. Fighting Voldemort was easy because fighting Voldemort was something he could prepare for. But breaking a loved one’s heart? That’s not something you can train for under the cover of the night.</p><p>It was the same intensity of fear he felt right now. </p><p>The eyes, huge, comets flying inside them over and over again, start born and dying, seemed to envelop him in their gaze and Harry had to grip his tight hard, blunt fingers digging through the material. He didn’t see Draco waking up but felt the shift next to him, the air moving around the other man, or moving with him, Harry wasn’t sure, because the person in front of him was having his undivided attention. </p><p>“Hello, guest,” said the figure, leaning in, its spider-web like wings glittering as if somebody put thousand upon thousands of small, unmovable raindrops on them and rotated them under the sun. Harry felt a warm but slightly prickly touch of the creature's long and slim fingers on his right cheek, but not like human-slim, more like branch-slim; it felt as if somebody peeled the bark off them, but not quite. Its whole form was beyond slim — if it was a human its bone would stick out from every angle and one would be afraid they would break the skin — but with the slow movement of its hand Harry saw that the body swayed with the leaves and trees around it.</p><p>He swallowed nervously. “Um…” he was about to say something, anything really, but thankfully it seemed that Draco woke up and was alert enough to grab Harry’s left hand, squeezed it — for courage? Or reminder that he wasn’t alone? — and started talking.</p><p>“Hello, o Bright One. Thank you for your welcome, we’re sorry if we intruded on anything, we were unaware that the land was protected.” Harry promptly shut his mouth, tight, hearing Draco’s posh accent going up a notch if it was even possible. His voice was honey smooth and Harry wished he could just close his eyes and listen to it pronouncing words, over and over again, preferably his name but he wasn’t picky.</p><p>But the eyes still watched him, transfixed on his face and Harry heard his heartbeat in his ears. If only he wasn’t afraid to move he would have grabbed his wand and started to run,</p><p>Then the creature turned towards Draco, a motion so swift Harry thought it was a dance move, paying attention with his whole body. They nodded, once, slowly, eyes focused on Draco, veiny and thin lips slightly parted. Their skin was the colour of rotten wood, ashen with spots of grey in different shades all over their body.</p><p>“Hello, guest,” they said to Draco, the voice deep and yet wistful at the same time. “Welcome to the land. What brings our esteemed guests here?”</p><p>Harry looked at Draco and was impressed by how neutral his face looked. No fear, no pleasantness, no fake smile plastered on it. Just Draco staring at the creature as if waiting for more. </p><p>Harry didn’t miss that their ‘host’ didn’t confirm if the land was truly theirs and could only hope that Draco caught it, too. No, he didn’t just hope; he knew the other man caught it, he worked with him for the past weeks and knew how bloody intelligent he was. He was just afraid that all the other things would get in the way. So, he squeezed Draco’s hand hoping it would convey the massage he wanted to say: don’t be afraid, you’re not alone, I am here for you and with you. </p><p>He had to hide his surprise when Draco squeezed back; his long fingers wrapping around Harry’s hand, hand slightly trembling and Harry wanted nothing more in the world to just hug the other man and protect him best he could. </p><p>“We were charged by a Lady From Above to find who were their mysterious visitors who trashed her garden. We tried to talk to them, however, they didn’t, ah, agree to the terms of the talk and escaped the circle.” Draco explained, voice steady and unbreaking and Harry felt warmth blossoming in his chest because clearly the man knew what he was doing and he was doing it carefully which filled Harry with a sort of pride that should be examined if he had time. </p><p>The creature blinked and cooked their head left, the branch-like veins outlined under the skin moved in a way that Harry felt an acidic taste at the back of his throat. The veins pulsed, bulged for a second, and then went back to their normal visage and Harry had a very nasty flashback to when Mister Dursley would go very angry and everything in him, veins including, would just grow and pulsed dangerously with his heartbeat.</p><p>“We’re sorry to hear that, our guests. We were not aware that our subject breached the gate to your world. We will fix it, and soon. In the meantime, would you like to join us for a feast? We would not like you to leave without a proper welcome. Our guests are very important to us,” said the creature and with the last sentence parted its lips in what would be an encouraging smile if it wasn’t for rows and rows of sharp, needle like teeth that the lips hid. Harry stared at it, probably a very improper thing to do, but he couldn't turn his eyes away.</p><p>“Of course,” said Draco, as if unfazed by the teeth and Harry’s head snapped towards him, stifling a scream of “Have you seen their bloody teeth?!” before it could escape his lips. “We would be delighted. However, I am sorry to say we cannot stay long; there are people waiting for us Above.”</p><p>“But of course! We would not like to keep our esteemed guests longer than anticipated,” said the creature, bowed and started backing up. Then Harry saw what was behind it, and to say it was a ‘feast’ was like to say that Hogwarts was magnificent; on a previously empty meadow a table appeared draped in a cloth so white aunt Petunia would just die from jealousy. And on it, food was almost spilling on the ground; shining green grapes and apples red like blood in golden bowls; yellow mangoes sliced and each of the slices with small, golden forks in it. Bananas laid next to shiny pineapples and fruits Harry couldn’t name were carefully placed on the table so that the whole thing looked like a renaissance painting ready to be plucked out of the frame out of the frame and eaten with delight. </p><p>They stood up, hands clasped, and Harry felt Draco’s hand trembling. He looked at the man, his lips tight, breathing hard through the nose and before he knew it he was pressed to his side, his other hand on the small of his back where Draco’s shirt was already sticking to his skin, and he said to his ear, “You’re doing great. Say a word and we’re out,” squeezing his hand. He could feel the warmth of Draco’s body and it was tempting, so tempting, but the time and place weren’t <em>right</em> and Harry wanted them to be so <em>badly</em>.</p><p>Draco closed his eyes and Harry could swear that he turned his face just a millimeter closer to his; that his hair brushed his nose and cheek and when he opened his eyes there was steel in them and the sort of fearlessness that one didn’t acquire or grew into but was born with. It made Harry straighten his back and shoulder, which made Draco’s lips twitch a little; a beginning of a smile. </p><p>“Don’t drink anything but water,” he said, low, only for Harry’s ears. “And let me do the talking,” to which Harry smiled like Draco didn’t already assume that role. The other man must have read it from the smile or Harry’s eyes, because he shook his head lightly in amusement and went towards the table, their hands still clasped, no, their fingers entwined, which made Harry blush and try to hide it by bowing his head.</p><p>They sat on the creature’s — their Host, as they introduced themselves, to which Draco nodded and Harry mimicked the gesture — left, next to each other, hands still clasped. The moment they were seated the plates in front of them filled instantly with food; he could taste on the tip of his tongue that the slice of bread was fresh and with the salted butter it would taste <em>divine</em>. There were strawberries coated in honey, blueberries big as sickle, various other fruits with chocolate still spilling from them to the bottom of the cups and Harry had an image of him, taking some of it on the tip of his finger and licking it. </p><p>He inhaled, sharply, his stomach growling, but the only thing he reached for was the golden goblet full of fresh water. As he drank he felt the water eased his anxieties; the knot in his stomach loosened and so did his hold of Draco’s hand for a second, but the other man grasped it tightly, as if he wanted Harry to remember that he too was still there. And how could he forget? He thought, licking his lips and watching Draco Malfoy from the rim of his cup, taking another few sips. In Hogwarts he was nearly obsessed with him and even though <em>after</em> he didn’t keep any tabs on Draco his mind wandered sometimes and thought <em>what if?</em></p><p>What, if that first year, he was kinder to him and showed more understanding? What if he tried harder, fought to understand him, gave him an option to keep him and his family safe? They were both <em>children</em> used as pawns by adults and maybe if Harry was for Draco what Ron and Hermione were for him…</p><p>His hand was squeezed harder then, as if Draco was reading his mind, but it made Harry finally look up from the cup to see their host watching him thoughtfully and he blurted, “Sorry, what?”</p><p>“Our gracious host was asking if you’re enjoying the meal,” said Draco, politeness dripping off his tongue like a poison coated in sweetness and Harry felt his cheek blushing. </p><p>“Yes,” he said instinctively and then, as if by luck, he remembered that he didn’t eat anything yet. “It’s just that we have some fulfilling snacks already, ummm, before and…” Harry looked at Draco with a pleading look and the man squeezed his hand as if saying, “I got it.”</p><p>“What my fellow traveler is trying to say is that the water will be enough for now.” Draco bowed his head and the creature did the same, its eyes still on Harry.</p><p>“Well, if the food is enough,” they said and Harry felt goosebumps rising on his arms; it was the same kind of feeling he got before he was to word-wrestle with his superior or the journalists. It was the same kind of nauseating feeling he had before he watched Ron go to action, when he waited for any news of Hermione’s childbirth pacing the halls of St Mungus nervously while Ron was with his wife. </p><p>“So, if the water is enough, maybe I can offer something more?” The creature said and the leaves rustled gently in a sudden breeze Harry looked around gingerly and didn’t notice that the plate suddenly disappeared and instead two golden bowls with a crystal clear water stood before them. He tentatively peered in, drawn to the surface like a moth to light and he heard Draco’s voice quietly saying his name so full of tension in one, single word that normally Harry would pause and think, but the desire to see the bottom of the bowl was stronger.</p><p>What he saw was his own reflection; his unruly, brown hair plastered to his forehead, the clearly visible bags under his eyes, the wearines in them. His brown skin also looked a tad bit paler than usual.</p><p>It wasn’t he who gasped, but it might. Harry peared at his right, just as the surface of Draco’s bowl shivered and transformed into an image… of a house. </p><p>“Maybe you would like to see your deepest desires?” The creature said, but Harry didn’t even look up, eyes transfixed on the bowl. The house was cute; a cottage between rolling, green hills, with a white but slightly eaten by time fence and moss on the roof tiles. On the front porch there were two rocking chairs, both covered with plaid blankets. </p><p>The house itself was so normal, but fairy-tale normal. Hermione would show him this type of house on one of her pinterest boards and he knew that they existed, because otherwise there would be no photos, but still a witch would live in a house like this.</p><p>Or, as a matter of fact, Draco Malfoy would, as on the surface of the water he opened a small gate, wearing a soft looking puffy jacket with a white collar and tight, black jeans. He looked weary, as if he just came back from a long day at work, when the doors to the cottage opened…</p><p>And Harry Potter — him, but not him, at the same time — stepped out, in a cozy thick jumper with two steaming cups in hands. Before he handed on to Malofy he leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, a wide smile on his face and Draco kissed his neck and they both walked in, arm in arm.</p><p>What struck Harry the most — and he thought about it, much much later — was the fact that the both of them looked<em> so happy</em>. Like teenagers in love for the first time, a couple that just got married still in their honeymoon faze. And the hammer that nailed Harry’s coffin was the fact that he didn’t remember the last that he was so damn <em>happy</em>.</p><p>“Ah,” said the creature and Harry slowly looked up and would shiver when it showed its teeth but his mind was still too absorbed in what he saw on the water’s surface and that in the corner of his eyes he caught Draco’s hands tightly wrapped around armrests, knuckles white and protruding so hard they might break the skin. “Such a simple thing, to want. Easily granted. Just <em>say the word</em>,” the creature said in low and enticing bones. Harry took a sharp breath and held it, waiting for Draco’s reaction; the other man had his eyes tightly shut and was biting on his lower lip almost drawing blood.</p><p>“Maybe the other guest will be more willing?” The creature might have snapped it’s fingers as if the world suddenly moved and all senses in Harry’s mind were focused on one thing and one thing only.</p><p>The surface of his golden bowl in front of him showed him his own face and when it rippled and started to sway, creating a miniature tornado inside the water, Harry was transfixed, hypnotised by they sway of waves; he wanted to move with them but he felt rooted to the chair like and old tree is rooted to the ground through hundred of years.</p><p>Then, as suddenly as it started, the water stopped. Harry blinked and blinked again when the blackness started to spread from the middle, like a drop of ink colouring the whole bowl black. The roots that were holding him seemed to tighten around his chest, squeezing his ribs <em>just so</em>; his heart started to beat harder, blood running through his veins so fast he could feel his cheeks flush and the tips of his fingers were tingling. But the darkness didn’t stop; it didn’t turn into a picture of a perfect house with a white fence, there was nothing, nothing, nothing and Harry felt acidic taste in the back of his throat. His mouth suddenly got dry and he felt drops of sweat on his face.</p><p>“Hey, Harry” said a voice as if from a far, gentle and kind; a cold hand wrapped around his and another one started gently massaging the back of his neck. </p><p>The nothingness seems to have consumed him. Everything should fit, like pieces of puzzles, into one image; however, after the war nothing went as it was supposed to be. Harry felt as if the race — the race of life — had begun long ago and nobody told him to start. Now, others were way ahead of him while he had only just begun to start to jog.</p><p>“Hey,” said the voice and strong and warm hands took his face and turned it right. Draco’s eyes were grey like a sky just after the storm and you could see the first rays of sunshine trying to get through. “Hey, breath with me.”</p><p>Harry did, as Draco took his tightly clasped hand and put it in on his breast bone so he could feel the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest. Harry closed his eyes and started counting, from ten to one and breathed in, counted to ten yet again and breathed out. Draco’s breath on his cheeks was warm and in a normal situation would make Harry blush as well as the fact that they were forehead to forehead, breathing in unison. </p><p>“I think I know how to get us out,” Draco whispered to his cheek so soft Harry thought he imagined it.</p><p>“What do you need?”</p><p>“A big and loud distraction. Could you do that?”</p><p>With anxiety in check and his breathing back Harry hummed under his breath. “I can give you any distraction you need.”</p><p>“Is that a proposition?”</p><p>Harry would have laughed at that if the presence of the fae wasn’t so prevalent; their wings were creaking softly like very old branches with every smallest movement, even if it seemed that the creature wasn’t moving at all, and he felt their eyes on them.</p><p>“On three?”</p><p>“One…” Draco whispered back, taking his hand from Harry’s back which made the place he was touching feel empty and hollow, like all of Harry right now. </p><p>“Two…” With free hands Harry touched his wand and the end of the magical line that was still tied to his jeans. He closed his eyes for a second and took a quick and deep breath…</p><p>And then he and Malfoy were moving as one; Harry firing Patronus spell and another one, that George taught him and fireworks bigger and better than ones of New Year’s Eve in London erupted from his wand while the white stag, sparkling like frozen snow on a sunlit day trampled the bowls and the fruits and the dishes laying before the two men. The fae shrieked and only then Harry saw the little fairies, very much like the one who came through the magical door in Miss Perrywinkle’s cemetery, popping up into existence, hissing with their teeths out like animals ensnared, wanting to attack but not really knowing how.</p><p>Harry fired another fireworks from his wand and the world around them erupted in reds and blues and green, giant dragons puffing sparkling fireworks fire out of their mouths sweeping above the tables and then soaring up to the sky. </p><p>“Run!” Draco screamed and pulled Harry, who trailed after him. He felt a hiss of hot air behind him, heard the roar of voices as he and Draco started running through the jungle, the rope their only indicator, their only guide, of where they were going. Because the road has changed, and Harry felt that rather than seen, as they were jumping above the suddenly emerging from earth roots while shoving leaves away, they seemed to elongate and grow even more near each other; the leaves seemed to be sharper and Harry hissed a few time when a branch struck him particularly viciously drawing blood. </p><p>“Come on, Potter!” Draco screamed at the top of his lungs it seemed like, his feet striking the earth as if he was flying and barely touching it. “No lagging behind!”</p><p>Harry gritted his teeth when a branch struck him on his right side, just between his ribs and he would have stumbled and lost the grip on Draco’s hand if it wasn’t his sheer stubbornness that kept him upright.</p><p>Then, as sudden as they started to run, they sprinted to the small clearing where the wall was still standing, still crumbled but there was an aura about it, golden and radiating out of it. Harry wanted to scream when he realised what Draco was doing, meaning running with full force straight at it, but the moment he was going to collide with the wall he stretched his right hand palm up and before Harry knew it, there were tumbling out onto the cold and wet floor of Miss Perrywinkle’s mausoleum. He swore under his breath as he fell face first, the grip on Draco’s hand disappearing and he swore even louder when he hit the ground with his right arm. As he turned onto his back, wheezing and breathing heavily he saw Draco standing up, nearly slipping on the floor, and he ran to the wall where the runes were still shining bright and visible. He placed his right hand on one of the runes and said something that Harry didn’t understand. Then, the ground underneath them shook, just once, causing dust to create a thin layer of fog before settling onto the ground. </p><p>Draco sagged, like a puppet who just had his strings cut and Harry panicked, scrambling to his feet and moving towards the other man on all fours.</p><p>“Draco,” he said, taking him under his arm and hoisting him up, leaning him against the sarcophagus. “Draco, don’t die on me, please.”</p><p>The eyes opened for a brief second, closed and opened again. “I’m not as dramatic as you, Harry,” and then Draco was wrapped in a strong hug from Harry Potter.</p><p>And this was how the aurors found them, running down the slippery steps, Ron Weasly at the front of them, wands raised.</p><p>“Well,” he said, when he saw the two men; dirty, bloody but still alive, leaning away from each other with faces that clearly indicated that he had interrupted something important and vital. “At least you’re alive. I own Hermine ten pounds, she told me we would find you this week.” He added, lowering his wand and gesturing at the other aurors to do the same. </p><p>Harry knew that he smiled weekly at that, knew that they had a company and he was caught hugging Draco bloody Malfoy, but really he didn’t fucking care. He leaned forward, his forehead resting on the other man’s collarbone and started to laugh, filling the silence of the catacombs. </p><p> </p><p>When they were both led out onto the fresh air — cold and wet, but not like <em>that </em>place. It was a familiar wetness which he felt in his bones and could know anywhere — he didn’t remember asking Ron what he and the aurors were doing there, but he remembered getting an answer, as Ron led him to a safe place when they could teleport to St Mungus. </p><p>“Mate, you were gone for almost four weeks. We got an owl from Miss Perrywinkle that you and Draco just disappeared from the case so we started looking. You will tell me everything after the healers look over you, alright mate?” He added, tightening his grip on Harry’s shoulders and without a warning they materialised on the hospital’s front law and then it was healers asking him questions, looking through his cuts and bruises, giving him elixir after elixir to drink and when they finally let him sleep Harry woke up unknown amount of time later still tired but groggy, quiet lethargic and with a hallowing and aching need to see Draco Malfoy’s face.</p><p>“Hey,” he said to no one in particular, but when the curly, dark hair of his friend Hermione loomed over him he squinted until he felt a familiar cold frames touching his face.</p><p>“Hey,” Hermione smiled brightly and sat nearer his bed on a plastic chair. “How are you?”</p><p>“Alive,” he said without humor but Hermine laughed nonetheless. “Still groggy. How long…?”</p><p>“Fourteen hours.”</p><p>Harry closed his eyes. “Shit.”</p><p>Hermine laughed at that and patted Harry’s hair. “As you said, you’re still alive.”</p><p>“And how…”</p><p>“He woke up three hours ago and signed himself off. Believe it or not he was in better shape than you were.”</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>“He said to thank you.”</p><p>That made Harry open his eyes abruptly. “He said what?”</p><p>“He said to thank you,” the woman leaned comfortably on the chair, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Now, tell me what happened. In detail.”</p><p>So Harry did. He told everything that had happened, drank the two glasses of water Hermione put in his hand without question and then the potion that the healer also gave him. He explained and talked until there wasn’t anything more to explain, until his throat felt slightly raw and his head was swimming in thoughts. </p><p>“It seems to me like the two of you have a lot of things to talk through.” She said at last after a long and tense moment of silence. </p><p>“Yeah,” Harry dug the heels of his hands into his eyes to wipe the excess of the sandiness that he still felt and had to blink rapidly for the world to come into full view. “You don’t happen to know where he went?”</p><p>Hermine sighed. “Harry, I see Narcisia Malfoy at least once a month, where we accidentally stumble into each other and accidentally have coffee and scones and she keeps me up to date about the ex-Death Eaters and I accidentally forward those informations to my supervisors. If you feel better let me apparate with you to your apartment, take a hot shower make yourself presentable and I will take you to her place. What?” She asked Harry innocently, leaning her head slightly left like with a smile that could make his teeth rot. She blinked a couple of times while saying, “I just love chatting with her about, you know, how her son is dumb and so is my best friend and how they definitely should meet on a case and bond over their shared affections, because honestly you were both obsessed with each other in school and she agreed.”</p><p>After a whole minute that was filled with silence on both sides Harry buried his face into his hands groaning while Hermine laughed and laughed and laughed. </p><p> </p><p>With the hot water making his shoulders relax and washing off the remains of the shampoo in his hair, Harry Potter stood, staring at the white tiles of his bathroom and having second thoughts. No, ‘second thoughts’ wasn’t a good explanation of… everything he was thinking about. He was mostly thinking about Draco; whether he wanted to talk with Harry or not, whether this whole plan was actually a good idea, if they were going to really do this… if Draco was going to say ‘yes’ in the first place… </p><p>A knock to the bathroom door startled him and Harry nearly slipped on the wet shower’s floor as Hermionie screamed from the other side. “Harry Potter, I swear to god, you defeated Voldemort and you’re not going to chicken out now! I will beat that stupid ass of yours if you do!” And really, he thought with a smile on his face, turning the water off and taking a fresh towel, he did have the best friends. They kept him honest, gave his shit and he didn’t want to think about where he would be if it wasn’t for them. Probably dead in a ditch somewhere. </p><p>When he walked out to see that Ron was already there, frowing deeply at the clothes Hermione laid on his duvet cover for Harry to choose.</p><p>“Mate,” he said, watching suspiciously the sweaters and trousers and shirts that were laid by the few pairs of jeans that Harry had. “I think you’re too poor to date Draco Malfoy. No, seriously!” He turned after he heard his wife scoffing dismissively, roaming through Harry’s clothes. “Like, Malfoy had probably the most expensive shirt I ever touched when we brought him to Mungus!”</p><p>“Shut up Ron. You,” Hermione pointed at Harry without turning around, who was using a second towel to dry his hair, while the first one hung from his shoulder. “Wear the white shirt, the burgundy sweater and the black jeans.”</p><p>“Oooh, good combo, babe.”</p><p>“That's why you married me.”</p><p>Harry shook his head and started to dress, while Ron talked about his latest case and Hermionie hummed in agreement, still looking through his clothes as if she hoped to find something better. It was hard to indulge in things after the Dursley for years programmed him to count every bit of money he had, although he enjoyed buying a hand knitted sweaters from old ladies whose grandkids helped with their Etsy shop. The burgundy one was soft and warm, one of his favourites; it had long sleeves that he gladly rolled up and the collar of his shirt peaked from beneath it, making it quite official and stylish, at least in his mind. </p><p>“Where’s your coat?” Asked Hermione when he was putting his boots on.</p><p>“Oh, I left it…” he made a vague gesture with his hands, not really knowing if “feary world” would sound normal.</p><p>“Oh, right, <em>there</em>.” Said Ron, nodding thoughtfully.</p><p>“It has a name, you know. Some called it Feywild, many people think that Dungeons &amp; Dragons creators just stole the name.”</p><p>“Really?” Asked Ron, with a knowing smile and he winked at Harry.</p><p>“Oh yes, you know in 1950… Oh, I’m startling to ramble, am I?” </p><p>“Only a little, babe, but you’re so smart I love it,” Ron stepped closer to his wife and gave her an obscenely loud kiss on the cheek. “Now take our loverboy to his destination and you,” he turned towards Harry, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t come back without talking to Malfoy, I beg you.”</p><p>“Um, yeah, ok,” said Harry weakly, brushing his damp hair with his fingers. Ron shook his head and rolled his head, threw a spell Harry’s way that dried his hair — and thus gave it even more a life on its on — and before The Boy Who Lived knew he was gripping tightly Hermione’s elbow as they apparated before Narcisia Mafloy’s country house.</p><p>He knew that after the war the Malfoy’s had to shrink their assets substantially (as did many of the pureblood families that were helping Voldemort) but changing Malfoy Manor to <em>this</em>… </p><p>To call it a “suburbian cottage” was like saying that a villa with a pool in a center of London was ‘just a house one lived in’. Malfoy’s home reminded Harry of Kate Winslet’s house in <em>The Holiday</em>, however, it was at least three times as big. It wasn’t the house that the feary showed the, but there were similarities; there was a dark green fence around the house, most of it overgrown by roses and the house itself was hiding in ivy that winded up to the second floor of the charming cottage. The moment they stepped through the squeaky gate the front door opened and Narcisia Mafloy, wearing what looked to be a sort of sleeping gown ending just below her knees that was more expensive than anything that Harry own with a robe that one cleary wore when they got the sad news about their husbands dying suddenly in a tragic accident the colours of rough sea. </p><p>“Ah, Hermione dear,” said the woman, flicking back her long, blond hair. She looked almost as Harry remembered her, with a few more lines on her face but definitely more content and happy than she was before. “Come in, come in. My son is just packing his suitcase upstairs…” She said, staring straight into Harry’s eye. “His room is at the end of the upper hall, on the far left.” Narcisia opened the doors wider to let them in. “Mathilda,” she said to a house elf that materialized just by her leg, in a bright pink dress with strawberries on them. “Please bring tea to my reading room.”</p><p>“Yes, Mistress,” and with a soft crack the elf was gone. </p><p>“It’s good to see you, Narcissia. Anything new?” Harry didn’t comment on the fact that Hermione was on first name basis with Narcissa Malfoy: he was rather more nervous about what was about to happen. Narcissia showed him with a delicate and pale hand the curving stairs leading up to the first floor and Harry nervously wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he started to go up. </p><p>He did hear soft, “Boys,” coming from Hermione and a quiet chuckle from the older woman.</p><p>The house was lovely. Very lovely. Probably lovely and Harry would think so if nervousness wasn’t burrowing a hole in his stomach as he ran up, his steps swallowed by a fluffy carpet on the stairs and in the hallway above.  </p><p>Draco’s door was wide open; Harry swallowed nervously as the blond man was standing before his bed, his suitcase open and half filled with what looked to be some smart clothes and some fancy wizard gowns. He was wearing a black shirt with rolled up sleeves, his Dark Mark stark pale against his skin and Harry wished Draco was as comfortable in his presence as he was in his own house.</p><p>“Come to gloat, mother?” Said Draco not turning back but he almost cracked his neck as he spun around when Harry, very politely, cleared his throat and said, “Um, hi, not your mother, sorry.”</p><p>Draco looked at him, eyes wide. Then, after a couple of seconds he seemed to acknowledge tha yes, Harry Potter was indeed standing on the threshold of his bedroom, nervously biting his lower lip and rocking on the heels of his feet. Then it seemed that something dawned on him, some ancient knowledge as he closed his eyes and with a patient of a saint said, “So, my mother and your Granger?”</p><p>Harry shrugged, not really caring that Draco calls Hermonie <em>his</em>, when it truth he was <em>hers</em>, always and forever. “Seems that way.”</p><p>“Well, I guess it would be rude if you stood there, so come on in,” he waved at Potter and turned back to his suitcase, shoving the closest thing inside with a not so hidden anger in his throw.</p><p>“So, how are you feeling?”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>He could <em>hear</em> Draco rolling his eyes. Harry smiled. “Yes, Potter, obviously, I’m fine.”</p><p>“So, back to our surnames then, Malfoy?”</p><p>Malfoy snorted, throwing something that looked like one flip flop. “Yes, Potter, back to our surnames, I don’t know what did you expect.”</p><p>“Well,” said Harry, hoping that his voice sounded more sure that he did, because this thing? Even uttering the words that he was about to utter to Draco Malfoy’s back? Utterly terrifying. “I thought, that well, after everything was done we could have had dinner. Together. For a start.”</p><p>After a brief pause during which the whole world seemed to stop, Draco said, “Why would you think that I would want that,” and Harry would gladly beat that stupid mug of his.</p><p>“Draco,” he said, feeling the anger rising almost every time he talked with the other man. “First of all shut up. Second of all: I saw what you saw in that bloody bowl and I’m not offended! I’m here because I want to ask you out for dinner, a date to be more specific, because I’m bi for Christ sake!”</p><p>“You’re what?” That statement made Draco turn and Harry swallowed nervously because the man looked as if something chewed him out; there were dark circles under his eyes, his shining hair was less shiny and more floppy and all Harry wanted to do was hug him and say that everything’s is going to be alight.</p><p>“I’m bi. That means I’m bisexual.”</p><p>“I know what that means Potter, I’m not an idiot!”</p><p>“Then why are you asking?”</p><p>“Because it's you! The Boy Who Lived, the one who single handedly saved the world…”</p><p>“Oh I had great help.”</p><p>“...and your bi? And you want to go on a date with me, and ex-Death Eater? Are you sane?”</p><p>“Sane?” Harry shrugged. “Haven’t been in a long time. Serious? Deadly. So, does Friday, 8pm work for you?”</p><p>“You’re a fucking idiot,” said Draco, before he leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees while his shoulder shook with laughter. Harry hadn’t felt so light <em>in years</em>, like flying or being really drunk and not knowing what was happening but being happy nonetheless. </p><p>“Oh, that I am. Also, I might be unemployed, out of my own violation, but I’ll tell you everything on Friday, yeah?”</p><p>Draco straightened and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe anything that was happening right now. “You’re crazy. What would people think?”</p><p>Harry stepped closer, and made another step and another, until he was close enough to feel Draco’s breath on his cheeks, until he could count each and every lash, see the different shades of grey in Draco’s eyes and tha barely visible freckles on his pale face that he hadn’t realised Malfoy had.</p><p>“As you said I am The Boy Who Lived and frankly I don’t give a fuck. No fucks given, Draco. So, Friday?”</p><p>“Yes, ugh, fine, Friday.”</p><p>“Great,” Harry smiled a brilliant smile and the only thing he heard before Draco leaned in, his warm lips touching his and closing his eyes was, “You’re bonkers, Harry, you know that?”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading! Remember: kudos and comments are a godsent, be safe, stay healthy and take care of yourselves!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy belated Birthday, Ania!!! Love you to bits! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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